Millennia
by A.J. Hamilton
Summary: Christopher wasn't quite sure when exactly his entire life turned upside down, but if he had to choose, it might have been when his devil of a sister arrived. And he meant the devil part quite literally. Now he must gather all his strength, emotionally, physically and mentally to prepare himself for what dangers will come to face him and his companions as a new war rages on.


'It was the soft orange glow of the rising sun streaming in through

the thin, silk tapestry that woke me from my deep slumber that early morning. It was the careless melody of the birds chirping within the comfort of their nests. It was the light summer breeze of which brushed across my face.' I only wished that was true.

"Brother, it's time to wake up."

The sickly sweet voice almost sent a shiver down my spine, and it took me a moment to gather my thoughts before I quickly tossed away the warm sheets once wrapped around my figure to sit on the edge of the plush, king sized bed. My interest lay on the cool marble coated floor while I impatiently waited for the woman who had disturbed my rest to leave. But she didn't. There was no shuffling of movement signaling her rise from the mattress. There were no exiting footsteps to be heard. I turned to look over my shoulder and saw her sitting there, legs crossed, hands folded neatly across her lap, the smooth white dress slipping half off her shoulders, eyes trained on me. Her deep, scarlet colored eyes, that held such a look of kindness and selflessness. Beautiful. That's what they would call her. That's what they would chatter amongst their companions when she passed by.

I was the only one who knew better.

I was the only one who knew what really lied beyond the barrier of those willful glances she would give.

I knew. . .

Tearing my own gaze from hers, I stretched-releasing the tension in my slightly aching bones- and walked towards a large wardrobe standing in the right corner. Once I had found a sufficient pale red tunic, a pair of leather bound sandals and knee guards, I began to dress myself, careful to not put a tear in the casual clothing. I paused, halfway finished lacing up my footwear, and fiddled with the tip of the leather band securing the sandals around my ankles.

"Do give me some privacy. I feel uncomfortable with you watching me like a hawk watches over it's prey."

I could practically hear her smiling when I spoke, and the image of her sharp, pointed teeth flashed in the back of my mind.

"What? I can't visit my favorite sibling every once and a while to greet him good morning?"

"I am only your favorite for the worst reasons. Now, if you had no other reason than to come here and wake me, I'll ask you to leave one more time." When I looked at her again, her smile was gone, and she quietly made her way to the terrace.

Minutes passed until she finally responded:

"Father wishes you a pleasant day, and he hopes he'll see you at the great gathering. . ." She turned on her heel and strode to the door frame, until stopping to steal a glance at me once more.

"He also said that Emperor Augustus has a special message for you." Not a second later, she vanished into the corridor with wide strides. I could only stand there, hoping, wishing I would not have to see her for a long while.

Though luck was not in my favor that day.

An hour or so later, I found myself heading in the direction of the training grounds, in hopes of finding someone who might spar with me. Most wouldn't even care to think of it, though others were more than glad to do so, claiming that they could 'conquer the general of war easily.' "Even the mightiest of lords may fall in the event of a challenger whose will is strong enough," I would always reply. "Though, do not let arrogance and impetuousness take hold, or you shall fail." I mumbled under my breath, taking heed to the suggestions of my father; memorize the many wise tips from fallen kings and warriors of our land. A gasp escaped the back of my throat when two children sprinted past me, and laughing joyously as they returned to their beckoning mother; who carefully scooped them both into her arms and placed loving kisses on both of their cheeks. I noticed her immediately as Artemis, the wife of Gideon, who was responsible for the crafting of my late uncle's best sword. Artemis seemed to have caught me staring, because she was beside me in no time at all, and presenting herself with a curtsy; as well as she could at least, with the bubbling weights still in her grasp.

"General. It is so nice to see you on this fine morning. Are you well?"

"I am just fine, thank you, Artemis. And please, you've known me since I was young, you may call me Christopher." I don't normally go by my first name on such an occasion as today, but it is much easier to do so. Artemis nodded, and one of the two twins she held reached out his small hand in my direction and whined wordlessly. Recognizing his plea, I took his nimble fingers into a gentle hold, and he giggled.

"Cyprian has taken a liking to you. If only Attilia wasn't so shy."

At the mention of her name, Attilia nuzzled deeper within her mothers embrace. At that moment, a small, bright butterfly fluttered close, and landed on the tip of my finger. Catching the young girl's attention, I held the delicate creature in front of her, and she timidly reached out. The butterfly hopped onto her finger instantly, and batted its wings a few times, before taking off to the skies. Attilia pointed upwards and grinned widely.

"Well," Artemis started, glancing at the busy streets behind her a bit wearily. "I must get back to my errands. Blessings to you."

"To you as well."

She disappeared into a large mass of bustling people, and I couldn't help but wonder as she left, '_What would it be like for me to have children of my own?' _Shaking those thoughts away, I continued my trek for a bit longer, till I was standing before at least twenty men, and younger boys, all performing their own tasks in a familiar courtyard. As I went to grab my weapon of choice, a few of the men greeted me much like Artemis had, then proceeded to spar with their partners. After a while of observing them slash and dodge attacks, I became adrift from the real world. Only then did a hand come to land on my shoulder, startling me out of my daze.

"They do not realize that those moves are simple, do they?"

Humming, I crossed my arms and leaned back on the stout, stone wall surrounding the barrier of the courtyard.

"These are new recruits, Orion. Do not blame their battle tactics. All they need is a shove in the right direction." As we stood there, we inspected the boys trying again and again to match the others' movements, and defecting soon after. The glitter of sparks could be seen just vaguely as swords clashed together; before falling to the gravel, and being stomped out under the footwork of each opponent. Some chatted idly while they fought, others joked and jabbed playfully, and a few implied helpful gestures as to where their partner should move next, or when to block an oncoming hit. It was brave, to see, that all of those whom were in front of me had volunteered to train early so that they may fight in the battles against our enemies. Sighing, I glanced at Orion- who had become deadly silent- questioningly, and saw his forest green eyes trained on something, or someone, rather. I followed his stare to a certain brunette, who was trying to hold his sword in the correct position, while a tall, muscular man instructed him to make use of his shield. Chuckling, I regained my posture and went to the weapons rack, which held a variation of maces, spears, hammers, and more destructive handlings.

I picked out a mildly rusted sword and examined it.

"You always look at him like he's either the most marvelous disappointment, or the most delicate flower."

Orion's head snapped to the left, probably to hide the embarrassed pout I knew all too well about, but soon did the same as I, and stalked over to grab a long, ragged spear.

"That is because he _is_ a disappointment, and he _is_ delicate. And I don't appreciate Victor pushing him so hard to be something he's not."

"This is not only having to do with the training," I swiftly treaded into the middle of the arena, Orion making a bee line after me. "I love my baby brother as much as you do, and I too despise the judging whispers of everyone who doubts his skill and courage. But we can deal with issues like this logically. He can fight to his best interest with someone he trusts. Someone who gives him the supportive encouragement he needs. So the only option to help him evade any more of these hurtful assumptions in his honor, is to prove he is worthy."

A squat, cobblestone podium sat in the center, with a small staircase to climb onto it. Usually, one of the soldiers would stand here to announce a separate sparring session between two trainees, though, I had a better idea in mind. Stepping up on the ledge, I surveyed the crowd, then took a lean, silver staff that regularly lay on the podium into a firm grip. I roughly tapped the butt of the pole against the stony material once, then twice to gather everyone's attention. The men formed themselves in a semi-circle, and waited for my orders for the fighting pair.

"I call Bertram Montéz to the sparring ring!"

Many of the older few let out boisterous laughter at my declaration, and Orion visibly flinched.

"You're going to fight him? He's your _brother_ for pities sake!" Orion shouted in a hushed voice, the protectiveness showing in his demeanor openly now.

"No. _I'm_ not going to fight him," I smirked, but only enough so that no one could see it except for my worried companion, who stood nervous and confused to hear what I would say next.

"_You_ are."

Orion was shocked for a moment, until everything clicked, and he suddenly realized what I was up to. Shrugging his shoulders back, and puffing out his chest, he sauntered to meet Bertram, and stopped to the point where there was just an inch between them. Orion said something I couldn't hear, to which Bertram stuttered what might have been an objective, then was silenced. They took their beginning stances, poised to strike when an opportunity pounced.

Orion made the first move.

He swung his aimed spear at Bertram's face, but missed when he ducked to the side. He lost his balance for a quick second, then pushed forward on the balls of his feet and slashed his sword in the direction of Orion's abdomen. Miss. This continued for what seemed like hours, though it hadn't even been half that time, until Orion caught Bertram in a choke hold with the wooden part of his spear. There was struggling, gasps of breath, and I almost proclaimed the end of it, scared that maybe this was going too far. That was

prior to-

_"Oof!"_

Bertram had unexpectedly rammed his elbow into the pit of Orion's stomach, who had dropped his weapon in attempts to cradle the external pain. Many leaned forward in anticipation as Bertram grabbed Orion's arm, twisted it horribly behind him, and delivered a strong kick to the underside of his knees, which sent him tumbling to the ground with a _thump. _Bertram had straddled Orion's hips in a success to pin him down, and pointed the tip of his sword at his neck, while gulping huge intakes of air to do as good as get rid of the exhaustion written all over his body language. There was nothing but silence; so quiet that you could hear the distant talking of villagers in the town square, and the steady breeze. Then, one of the boys started to clap, then another, and another; soon the whole area echoed with the sound of applause. The corners of my lips twitched upwards as I jumped from the podium and pushed past the cheering bystanders. Bertram hobbled to his feet, and surveyed the crowd in shock and awe.

I slung my arm around his shoulders, and he grinned proudly at me.

"Alright! That's it for today, you shanks! Go home and relax!" I shouted, earning a howl of pleased hoots and hollers.

"I can't believe I won!" Bertram exclaimed. The expression he showed was mixed with a flurry of emotions formed to show nothing but happiness. Seeing my brother like that made my heart melt with pure admiration.

"Yes," A strained voice grunted, "Well, while you reign victorious, I shall just lay here in excruciating agony." Bertram gasped, and hurried to lift Orion to his feet, then proceeded to dust the grime from his uniform, and offer an unnecessarily long apology.

Orion stopped him with a raise of his hand, and patted his head reassuringly.

"No need to apologize. You did better than I expected, dear friend! I am proud of you!" He hooked an arm with Bertram, and the other with me, and the three of us strolled out of the courtyard in a blissful glee.

Summer was rolling in, and the various flower buds were emerging from beneath the grass in the Villa Borghese garden. Bertram spent most of his time there, helping grow the gorgeous plant life. He much preferred the peaceful viability of gardening than fighting, and snuck away from our father's lectures to be among "the intelligent beings of the Earth." At least, that's what _he_ called them. Some days, he would bring me a bouquet of flowers to put in the many vases placed in my room, when the old ones died. I thought to myself of the time that he had brought me a particularly strange, yet alluring shrub he picked out on the edge of the Blackwater forest. It smelled of fresh strawberries, and held the shade of a somewhat creamy hue. When I woke the next day, I was terribly ill and covered in a dreadfully scarring rash. Bertram was scolded for it, but we bantered about it none the less, and I learned to get used to the burning sensation on my limbs after that.

When we reached the garden, it turned out to be more breathtaking than I'd imagined.

The sunset cast a gold tint upon all in its path, and made the stone and amethyst archway hovering above us shine even brighter. Orion sat on one of the benches near a bed of Orchids, and sighed in content. Bertram was about to sit with him, when he suddenly approached a looming hedge on our right, and bent over to grab something. He came back, with a perfectly weaved flower crown made of Astrantia. The petals undertook a greyish white, then faded into purple, then black at the end. Bertram had extremely still hands, so when it came to these kind of craftworks, he was a true expert and wasted no effort in making things flawless. I was only slightly taller than Bertram, though he still had to stand on the tip of his toes with much difficulty, to position it on my head.

"I made this for you for the feast tonight. If you'd rather not wear it, that's fine."

I chuckled, and fixed the crown so that it fit a bit more snuggly. "This is a nice gift, thank you. I will wear it, as a sign to show how dearly I cherish the one who made it." Bertram smiled, and planted himself next to Orion, who jumped at the close proximity, but accepted it graciously. "The sun will be setting soon already. You should probably get prepared for the grand night."

"Are you not coming?" I inquired.

"My mother requested I succor in feeding the cattle. They've been feeling dreary lately. But I don't doubt you'll have fun."

Bertram giggled. "Please, we both know he distastes parties. 'Too many people' he says."

I scoffed at his remark, but it was reasonably accurate. Turning away, I left my brother and his tutor in solitude, took one last full breath, and held it, dreading the inescapable festivity outcomes that might come to pass.

'High hopes,' I told myself 'or the suffering will advance without delay.'

Deciding to not think twice of the fear inside my gut, I continued on.

I should have stayed back.


End file.
